


Rescue Me (Take Me In Your Arms)

by Eastmava



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bad Guys Win, But damn does he love his Kylo, Character Death, Hux is awful, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 17:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12085527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eastmava/pseuds/Eastmava
Summary: "A Force-Supression collar.She’s heard the tales, the worst form of torture for a Force user. Worse than any physical pain. No Force sensitive has ever worn one for longer than three days and managed to recover when finally freed. Most were permanently damaged in hours.Now she makes herself think of who. Of Ben, her sweet boy she failed to protect. The young child with unruly curls who cried and clung to her when she sent him away. Of Kylo Ren, who tortured Poe, the boy he played with as a child. The monster who killed her husband. The boy who massacred children."The Resistance captures Kylo Ren.





	Rescue Me (Take Me In Your Arms)

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this a while ago and have been sitting on it for months. It's not my usual soft Kylux fare, so please heed all the warnings. 
> 
> If I haven't scared you off, I hope you enjoy!

It’s pure luck that they manage to capture him at all.

She wasn’t there, back on their base, trying to strategize, going over every bit of intel they’ve scraped together to try and figure out where the First Order has disappeared.

It’s Poe who sends the transmission. Finn stands beside her, tall and strong, so much more than the Order ever would’ve thought him capable of becoming when she hears it.

“General,” Poe’s voice is small and tinny as the message plays in the command room, and at first she thinks the waver in his voice is a result of the light years separating them, because Poe, Poe who came back from Jakku with nightmares that still make it hard for him to sleep but never hesitated at anything she asked of him, Poe whose voice rang strong and clear when he flew his X-Wing into the oscillator to save them all, because if something can make Poe sound unsure and scared, she can’t imagine the horror, wants to scream for them to cut the transmission.

“General,” he says again after a slight clicking sound which can only be him swallowing. “We, we found him. We found,” another swallow, and she knows, knows what name he wanted to say, knows it with the same dreadful drop in her stomach, the hot taste of bile on the back of her throat she felt when Han died. “Ren. Kylo Ren.” Finn doesn’t flinch beside her but she feels the ripple in the Force as he suppresses the urge.

 _Strong, brave Poe. Strong, brave Finn_ , she thinks.

“It looks,” the message continues. “It looks like he, like he killed Snoke. I don’t understand it. But he’s weak, he didn’t fight us at all when we tried to take him. We’re, we’re going to bring him back with us.” The transmission cuts out with a fizzle.

She reaches out, takes Finn’s hand. It’s unfair of her to ask for his strength when he’s already given so much, but she has to, has to.

“How long until we expect them home?” She asks. Finn squeezes her hand.

“Six hours, General,” a lieutenant responds.

A deep breath. She looks at Finn, at the stiff way he holds himself, a result of his still healing spine. The look he gives her isn’t a smile, but there’s still comfort in it.

“Very well,” she says to the room at large. “We have preparations to make. That doesn’t give us much time.”

She doesn’t think about who, can’t think about who, it is she orders a cell readied for. In her quarters, at the bottom of a trunk with a heavy coat of dust on the top, beneath a pile of the sort of fancy clothes she no longer has any use for, is an object. It’s metal but lacks any real shine.

It burns her palms when she picks it up despite the cloth it’s wrapped in.

It was nearly impossible to acquire, and if it hadn’t been for Han’s shady connections it would’ve been impossible. Decades ago they were outlawed. She’s sure the law is still on the books although it’s fairly obsolete.

A Force-Supression collar.

She’s heard the tales, the worst form of torture for a Force user. Worse than any physical pain. No Force sensitive has ever worn one for longer than three days and managed to recover when finally freed. Most were permanently damaged in hours.

Now she makes herself think of who. Of Ben, her sweet boy she failed to protect. The young child with unruly curls who cried and clung to her when she sent him away. Of Kylo Ren, who tortured Poe, the boy he played with as a child. The monster who killed her husband. The boy who massacred children.

It’s her Ben they lead off the tired transport ship, his curls lank and unruly but she knows them, knows the feel of them under her fingers. Ben’s nose, the one she used to promise him he’d grown into. The scar that bisects his face is ugly, painful to look at, but it’s still a scar on the face of her Ben. Too familiar big brown eyes that always seem on the verge of crying.

Poe was right, he’s weak, dragged down the ramp by two pilots, his feet stumbling beneath him, catching on the metal of the ramp. He’s gaunt, drawn, none of the cheeks rounded with baby fat she knows.

But he looks up when she steps forward and there’s a hardness to his expression, a determination that stalls her steps because she’s seen that expression before, the stubborn set of his jaw one she’d seen on Han too many times.

“Hold his head up,” she orders. Before one the the pilot’s can act he holds his head high, his neck presented to her. “Do you know what this is?” She asks. The only kindness she can show her son, giving him a moment to prepare himself.

She’s not expecting him to smile.

“He’ll come for me,” he says, defiant, the first words her son has said to her in over a decade.

And then he says nothing else, simply stares at her with a gaze too knowing. He sags when she snaps the collar closed, watches it settle low on his neck, too loose. He nearly crumples, his knees quaking, after a second.

But even as they carry him to his cell he’s still smiling.

She doesn’t sleep that night, lies awake because every time she closes her eyes, begins to drift, something jolts her back to wakefulness. The Force presses around her, both too heavy and too light at once, it thrums around her, buzzes in the air, never leaving her at peace.

It’s in the hazy hours before dawn, the light filtering in blood-red and dappled, that a heavy, staccato knock sounds on her door and she heaves herself out of bed, finding herself grateful for the excuse to abandon futile attempts to sleep.

She pulls on a plain tunic and pants, eyes snagging on the pile of beautifully embroidered fabrics heaped on top of her old chest where she dug through it yesterday as she dons her patched and threadbare uniform. She rakes her fingers through her looses hair as she goes to open the door.

It’s not the first time she’s ever had a blaster trained on her, but it is the first time it’s ever happened in her own quarters.

“General,” the sneering red-head greets.

Leia prides herself on standing tall and steady as she faces down General Hux, the man who called for the destruction of the Republic, the heavy loss of lives still a scar in the Force. The blaster he’s raised at her remains steady, his finger on the trigger never wavering, a steady, constant threat.

It takes a second longer than she would like to admit to shake the shock off, to begin processing the situation. Behind General Hux are two other First Order officers, a slumped figure held between them.

“How the hell did you get onto my base?” She demands, jaw clenching as her mind scrambles to explain this. The corner of Hux’s lips twitch, and it takes her a long second to recognize the twisted expression as a smile.

“Show her,” he calls to the officers, and one of them fists the sandy hair of the man they’re supporting, wrenches his head up and her legs falter, she leans heavily on the door when she sees who it is.

“Luke,” she cries, and unthinkingly tries to step forward, only to stumbles back when Hux slams the butt of his blaster against her temple.

“Tsk, tsk, General,” he scolds. “I expected you to behave. But I suppose that runs in the family.”

There’s blood running down her face, she can feel the slow, sticky crawl of it, and the world tilts as she’s overcome with dizziness. “What have you done to him?”

“Oh General,” and it’s almost a purr as he says it. “Nothing worse than what you’ve done.” She blinks fuzziness from her eyes, presses the heel of her hand to the pounding ache until the world steadies and she can fully take in Luke, his eyes barely open but a clear grimace of pain etched onto his weathered features. And there, around his neck, is a collar much like the once she fastened around Ben’s neck just hours ago.

“Bastard,” she spits at Hux, though it’s not enough.

“Come now, Leia, is that anyway to speak to the man who’s facilitated this touching family reunion? First your son, now your brother. Why, if only your husband were here.”

She gasps at the ache in her heart when he mentions Han, the still-healing scab he knows he’s grinding salt into.There’s a cloud of wrongness hanging in the atmosphere as she instinctively reaches out to touch Luke’s Force Signature, to comfort herself with the nearness of her twin, only to find it blocked from her.

“Release him and get off my base,” she growls, desperate, even though she knows, in a deep, resigned part of her mind that words will do her no good when he holds all the power.

“Gladly. Release Kylo Ren and I’ll give you your brother. Or at least what’s left of him, and the scavenger girl as well.”

She doesn’t swallow in nervousness, the urge trained out of her years ago, but it’s pure bravado that makes her speak. “Never. I’ll never negotiate with the likes of you.” He grins, and all she can think of is a slithering, slimy serpent who’s spotted a fat rodent for its next meal.

“Very well,” he agrees, though there’s no concession in his voice. “I’ll give orders for my men to slaughter your troops, the ones who whooped with joy when we landed the Millennium Falcon before we stepped off, their hero Jedi in tow. And then I’ll activate the explosives I’ve planted every thirty feet around your base. Everyone in your little Resistance will die, General, and you along with it. I’ll be sacrificed, but there will be others to step up and take my place and the First Order will conquer the galaxy.” He reaches a hand out, presses a thumb into the blood oozing down her face. “Or, do as you’re told, and your precious resistance fighters will live.”

“And why should I trust you?” He brushes her hair over her shoulder, and the intimacy of the gesture makes her skin crawl.

“You really shouldn’t.” It’s probably the most truthful he’s ever been.

He keeps the blaster pointed at her as he parades her down the halls, Luke dragged stumbling along behind them. Every member of the Resistance she passes has a First Order officer standing right beside them, a blaster held to their heads. They look at her with frightened eyes, and she nods to them all, forces herself to meet their gazes and tries to look as reassuring as she can while she’s marched like a prisoner in her own base down to the cells.

She wants to hang her head in defeat, to look toward the earthen ground she treads on instead of facing her failure to lead, to protect, to refuse to surrender, but she won’t give Hux the satisfaction. The stairs that take them down to the underground cells are dank and smell of mold, a constant drip drip drip of water always echoing in the background, although no one has ever been able to figure out where the leak is coming from.

He’s in the farthest, darkest cell, and Hux presses the blaster to the small of her back as she keys in the code and presses her thumb to the pad to open the door.

Ben ( _not Ben, not anymore_ ) sits tucked into a corner, rocking himself like a child. A nudge from the blaster guides her to him and as she crouches down to release the thick band of metal from his neck she looks at his eyes, already partially feral from the pain, and she send a prayer, to the Force to see her though, to Han to forgive her, though she’s not sure what she needs forgiveness for the most.

As soon as the collar falls to the ground with a clatter Hux shoves her aside, crouching down next to the shivering boy who was once her son. The Force shudders around her, a great tidal rush as Ben pulls it around him again, and she glances at Luke, sees him shake and moan in pain.

Hux still has his blaster pointed at her, unwavering, but his other hand brushes through Ben’s matted curls. He whispers something, though she can’t make out the words, even as near as she is, only a soft, gentle murmur. She almost retches when he leans down and presses a fluttering kiss to Ben’s forehead.

“You came,” Ben ( _Kylo, her son, the man who killed Han Solo, the boy who ran away from he_ r) mutters, his voice scratchy and his eyes slowly refocusing.

“Of course,” Hux whispers in return. “I’ll always come for you. There’s not a place in the galaxy anyone can take you that I wouldn’t follow.” Kylo Ren’s head lolls forward, nuzzling against Hux’s chest as Hux wraps an arm around his back to soothe him with broad, sweeping strokes.

They stay that way for many minutes, Leia watching with horrified eyes as she fights the realization that her son ( _not her son, her son, the boy she birthed and held and rocked to sleep and kissed goodnight, the son she sent away when he was ten, the son she couldn’t protect, the son who turned against her, this stranger who killed the man she loved, this lost boy who slaughtered an entire generation of Jedi children_ ) is in love with the man who built Starkiller.

Finally, when he’s stopped shivering, Kylo Ren rises on unsteady legs, an arm slung around Hux’s shoulders. The general must be sturdier than he looks, because he doesn’t falter under the weight. They don’t speak as they walk out of the cell, back up the stairs and out into the open air. The landing stip of the base is usually vibrant and alive, a rushing mix of pilots and techs in an array of mis-matched, colorful clothing. But today, it’s dark and drab, the colors muted by the grey and black and white of First Order troops with weapons pointed at her troops, their eyes all scared. She takes pride in their courage, their obvious strength, because while they are certainly scared they all stand tall, defiant in the face of their possible deaths.

She locks eyes with Poe, an unsightly gash dripping blood on his handsome face, his nose crooked in a way that tells he got a fist to it for being mouthy. As they step onto the ground, damp with dew, she has the absurd thought that she should’ve taken the time to put on boots.

They near the ramp of the First Order transport and she sees Rey, huddled on the ground, shaking and sobbing, a Force suppression collar locked onto her as well and Finn, still so brave, holding her. The well trained officers begin filing up the ramp at a sharp nod from Hux while he plants himself at the base, blaster still on her.

“The explosives are set to go off in twenty minutes, but before you get any ideas if my ship doesn’t clear atmosphere in three they’ll go off immediately. You’ll never find them all, but that should give you some time to evacuate.” He casts a glance at people he’s herded together to witness her humiliation and defeat. “At least most of your people will survive.”

The anger, the boiling rage that has always burned bright in her chest, that fire hot ball of fury that has been a constant her entire life, the fury that she knows she inherited from her father and passed on to her son, explodes in her chest.

“I know who you are!” She screams, body pitching forward with the strength of her yelling. “Armitage Hux, unwanted bastard of the First Order. The illegitimate child of Brendol Hux and a kitchen woman whose name no one will ever bother to know. You will fall to obscurity, forgotten to history as a useless failure.”

Whatever she expected, another knock to the head, a blaster shot, she didn’t expect him to laugh.

“You think you know who I am, General? I am the man who just bested you,” he announces, voice ringing strong and clear over the field. “I am the man who loves your son more than you ever did,” and she tastes the bitter sting of bile on the back of her tongue when he buries a hand into Ben’s wild curls, the man who was once her son nuzzles closer, purring like a spoiled lothcat at the attention. “You think the man who ordered Kylo Ren to murder Snoke will be forgotten to history, Princess?” Her stomach heaves and she swallows, breathes through the convulsions- she will not embarrass herself so. Whatever happens, she will go with dignity. “Do you honestly believe, Leia, that the new Supreme Leader of the Order, the man who crushed the Republic and the Resistance, the man who will rule this galaxy as emperor, will fall to obscurity?”

She doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything, even as she watches his finger curl around the trigger of the blaster.

She allows herself this one weakness and closes her eyes.

 _Han_ , she thinks, _I’m coming._

 

~End

  

 

**Author's Note:**

> *ducks behind a table*
> 
> I'm sorry. But I did warn you.
> 
> If you enjoyed this please consider leaving a comment or a kudos. And come say hi on Tumblr!
> 
> cut-off-the-grain.tumblr.com


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